Even More Tours

Cynical private investigator Atticus Wynn and his idealistic partner Rosemary Sanchez will stop at nothing to save a damaged boy, even when it means taking on a pair of professional killers and a gang of outlaw bikers in this action-packed and gallows-humored mystery thriller prequel to The Black Song Inside.

When Atticus and Rosemary are hired for the seemingly routine job of finding Imran Khan, a runaway from San Diego’s posh Barrington Academy for troubled teens, the detectives quickly discover this case will be anything but routine.

Imran wasn’t running away from the rigid rules of Barrington, he was running into the arms of an enigmatic beauty who goes to great lengths to stay in the shadows. As soon as Atticus and Rosemary learn of this mystery woman, they’re targeted by a brutal outlaw biker gang.

When the detectives finally meet their employers in person, Imran's parents, the pieces fall into place. They discover a family seething with rage, an abused boy seeking love, and a secret so powerful, it blows the lid off the case. A dark world of dirty money, deadly spies, and double-crosses is brought to light, forcing Atticus and Rosemary to question whether Imran is an innocent victim or a violent avenger.

The detectives will need all of Atticus's street smarts and Rosemary's combat experience to survive as they race down a road of blood and broken people toward a showdown where the very boy they've sworn to save is the person most likely to get them killed.

EXCERPT

Rosemary Sanchez’s phone rang, or to be more accurate, warbled into song. Specifically, Muddy Waters famous blues tune “Mannish Boy,” which she had not programmed into it. It started at the part that refers to the singer’s destiny to become “the greatest man alive.” She snorted. That Atticus.

Clad in jeans and a gray T-shirt that read ARMY across the front, she’d been in the midst of her daily bed-making duel with her nemesis, her tortoiseshell cat Mawroo, who with feline telepathy, always anticipated the moment she began to make her bed. As the sheet came billowing down, Mawroo leapt onto the mattress. The cat-hump raced around beneath the sheet like a gopher in a cartoon, all the while uttering her namesake cry, “Maaaaawrooooo!” Rosemary could only answer such an affront to bed-making etiquette by scrabbling her fingers about so that the hump raced hither and thither after them, sometimes rolling over to create four paw tent poles, claws poking through the sheet.

Rosemary answered the phone while, in protest at the interruption, Mawroo “mawrooed”!

“Let me guess,” Rosemary said. “You made one too many smartass remarks, and now we’re barred from Barrington.”

“Scoff, scoff,” Atticus said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“I wanted to scoff at your lack of faith, but I’ve only read about people scoffing and never actually seen it. Thus, I don’t know how one would actually go about scoffing in real life. So I improvised.”

“I don’t know whether it’s more disturbing to think you’ve been pondering that for a while or that you just thought it up.”

“Either someone’s playing a violin with a meat tenderizer,” he said, “or you are foolishly trying to make your bed with Mawroo in the room.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Rosemary said. “She sulks all day if I shut her out.”

“How can one tell if a cat is sulking or just being a cat?”

“When one loves another being and is in a close relationship, one pays attention and thus becomes quite attuned to the being’s sensibilities.”

“Are we still talking about a cat here?” Atticus asked.

“Meow,” Rosemary answered.

“Um, er, normally, I’d be game for the metaphorical banter, but I happen to have a gentleman tailing me. I’m hoping you can come out here and tail my tailer.”

“Can’t tell,” he said, “but it’s hard to see what I could have done so quickly to make someone want to hurt me.”

“You’ve never been on the other side of your smart mouth.”

“Anyway,” he said, “once you’ve got him, I’ll lose him.”

“And I’ll follow him back to his criminal lair.”

“Criminal lair?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Any criminal associated with Barrington Academy wouldn’t have anything as uncouth as a hideout. He would merit a lair.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” he said. “Brains enough that once this ne’er do well is ensconced in his lair, you wouldn’t dream of doing something as stupid as trying to get a real good looksee before you’ve called your charming partner in for back up, right?”

“You do recall I’ve done a tour of duty in a war zone?”

“And I know you’re going back soon,” Atticus said, his voice tight, “which I don’t like to even think about. My point is that neither of us should take any unnecessary risks.”

“But that’s my specialty.”

“Computers are your specialty. That’s why we joined forces. Risk-taking is your addiction.”

“Fine, if you’re going to be such a big butt about it, I’ll play it all careful and boring.”

Atticus sighed. “All I ask is that you be as concerned about your safety as I am.”

Rosemary ended the call as Mawroo scooted from beneath the sheet, paused, and then suddenly realized it was absolutely imperative she get out of the room as quickly as possible. She galloped through the door and made it all of three feet into the hall before lying down, licking her paws, and rubbing her little baseball head with her wet feet.

Grinning at the kitty’s antics, Rosemary threw her hair into a braid, wriggled into her jeans, and headed out the door to her silver Ford Fiesta ST. Fifteen minutes later, Rosemary texted Atticus that she was in position behind the tail.

About the Author

Carlyle Clark was raised in Poway, a city just north of San Diego, but is now a proud Chicagolander working in the field of Corporate Security and writing crime and fantasy fiction. He has flailed ineffectually at performing the writer's requisite myriad of random jobs: pizza deliverer, curb address painter, sweatshop laborer, day laborer, night laborer, security guard, campus police, Gallup pollster, medical courier, vehicle procurer, and signature-for-petitions-getter.

He is a married man with two cats and a dog. He is also a martial arts enthusiast and a CrossFit endurer who enjoys fishing, sports, movies, TV series with continuing storylines, and of course, reading. Most inconsequentially, he holds the unrecognized distinction of being one of the few people in the world who have been paid to watch concrete dry in the dark. Tragically, that is a true statement.

Murder at Morningside
​ by Sandra Bretting GENRE: Cozy Mystery

Heads turn when milliner Missy Dubois waltzes into town to set up shop on the Great River Road in Louisiana. Heaven only knows the brides who get married in the grand old mansions there could use a bit of help.But then Missy discovers a murder among the magnolias, and even the worst “bridezilla” seems suddenly tame.

​Before Beatrice could say more, the front door flew open and in stomped an elderly gentleman. He was on the verge of a good old-fashioned hissy fit.

“Y’all don’t deserve a say in this wedding!” he said to a young woman who’d slunk in behind him.
The girl looked to be the right age for his daughter. She wore flip-flops and a wrinkled peasant blouse, and she buried her head in her hands. Well, that lifted the blouse an inch or two and exposed her bare stomach.

Lorda mercy. It seemed the girl and her fiancé must have eaten supper before they said grace, as we said here in the South, because an unmistakable bump appeared under her top. She looked to be about four months along, give or take a few weeks, and I could see why her daddy wasn’t too happy with her right about now.

After a piece, she lifted her chin and glared at him. “I hate you!” Her voice rippled as cold as the river water that ran nearby. “I wish you were dead.” She stalked away.

I fully expected the man to cringe, or at least follow her. Instead, he merely glanced our way and shrugged. After a minute, he pivoted on the spectacle he’d caused and casually strolled away, leaving a bit of frost in the air.
“Oh my. Why don’t we continue,” Beatrice said.

Poor Beatrice.She obviously wanted to divert our attention elsewhere. It couldn’t have been every day one of her hotel guests wished another guest was dead. She hustled us farther into the ballroom, as if nothing had happened, all the while explaining the history of Morningside Plantation.

​ Sandra Bretting works as a freelance feature writer under contract to the Houston Chronicle. She received a journalism degree from the University of Missouri School of Journalism and wrote for other publications (including the Los Angeles Times and Orange Coast Magazine) before moving to Texas. Her Missy DuBois Mysteries series debuts from Kensington/Lyrical Underground in May 2016. Bretting’s previous mysteries include Unholy Lies (2012) and Bless the Dying (2014). Readers can reach her online atwww.sandrabretting.comand through Facebook atwww.facebook.com/sandra.bretting.

I went to the University of Missouri School of Journalism, where I happened to take a creative course on a whim. It was the best “accident” of my life. I went on to write for theL.A. TimesandHouston Chronicle, but I also studied creative writing at the University of Irvine.

I began my publishing career with short stories. They taught me how important every word can be, and also how to pack a lot of action into a limited space. My first short story was published in 2000, and I felt like I’d just won the lottery.

2) Where did you get the inspiration for your current book/characters?

My husband and I traveled to the Great River Road in Louisiana several years ago, and I fell in love with the area. I remember touring these moody gardens dripping in Spanish moss and thinking, “What a wonderful site for a murder!” Good thing the tour guide didn’t know what was on my mind!

3) How do you get over writer's block?

I remember a quote from the famous Spanish author Isabel Allende. She was talking about sitting down every day to her computer, even on those days when she didn’t feel like it. The quote is very simple: “Show up, show up, show up, and after a while the muse shows up, too.”

Forbidden Heat byJL White GENRE:New Adult Romance

​They call us the Firework Girls.

I’m Isabella. My comfort zone consists of a bank of test tubes and a Bunsen burner. But having to take a philosophy class to graduate from college—well, that’s causing a different kind of burn altogether. I mean, the hottest professor at Hartman is looking right at me.

Can you blame me for looking back?

Forbidden Heat will be $0.99 during the tour!!Forbidden Heat (Firework Girls, Book 1)www.amazon.com/Forbidden-Heat-Firework-Girls-Book-ebook/dp/B01CYI91RIMidnight Heat (Firework Girls, Book 2)www.amazon.com/Midnight-Heat-Firework-Girls-Book-ebook/dp/B01CYI91UU

Feeling dizzy, I back away from the table with heavy limbs. The girls I met don’t notice my departure but Justin Kirby does.He’s right next to me with his hand on my lower back.
“I need to sit down,” I say.
“Okay sweetheart,” he says.He steers me away, past an empty chair.
“Wait,” I say, but he leads me to the basement stairs and we start to go up. I’m having trouble managing them.I mumble something as we wind through the crowd on the main floor, bumping against a shoulder here and an elbow there. The music is pounding. I feel it in my body, but it sounds muffled, along with all the other sounds in the room. He steers me up another flight of stairs. He has to put his arm around me to keep me from tripping on the steps.What's the matter with me?There’s a long, dark hallway at the top, with several rooms breaking off on either side. Justin Kirby is practically dragging me along.When he opens a door, I see a bed in the room and know I’m in trouble. I’m almost too out of it to panic properly.All of a sudden, he half lets go of me, half shoves me into the doorjamb.I hit my forehead on the wood, trying to hang on to something. There’s screaming and yelling—I’m hearing his voice, I think, and someone else’s, a woman’s voice—but it’s all confusion to me and now all I can do is think about the fact that I’m falling and can’t stop.

This was one absolutely delicious read! The main man, Shane, was absolutely sizzling! Grrrr! I'd definitely try to get a few private lessons with him (at least in my head!) Isabella was definitely very likable as well, and both characters had wonderfully palpable emotions that I could truly feel. The storyline itself was very well written with some intricate sub plots and a few wild curveballs thrown in for good measure.The romance was very spicy yet sweet and had me eagerly lapping up the pages once they finally gave in to their irresistible attraction to each other. I was absolutely absorbed with this book from beginning to end and could barely rip myself away for a few minutes to touch base with real life. I really enjoyed this book and I'm definitely going to be checking out some of this author's other works now! I think I just found a new favorite author!

​J.L. White writes steamy romances featuring smart, sexy women and the swoon-worthy men who adore them. Her sexy love stories are full of passion but don’t skimp on the tenderness. She’s addicted to trendy coffee houses, poolside lounging, and HEAs. When not tapping blissfully away on her laptop, she takes time to enjoy life with her husband and their children.LinksWebsite: http://jlwhitebooks.com/JLWhiteBooks.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/JLWhiteAuthorJLWhiteAuthor

Gonzo has not only had to come to terms with the loss of his entire family, but he also barely survived being shot in the chest multiple times while still a human, and was then later turned into a werewolf during a vicious attack while hiking as he tried to put his life back together. Constance has had her own losses to deal with, and while nowhere near as bad as Gonzo’s, they’ve left a mark on her as well. She’s determined to live her life without a partner though, because her two sexual experiences in college convinced her she’s asexual. Gonzo’s a biker people cross the road to avoid, while Constance has multiple doctorate degrees and works as a research scientist for a leading pharmaceutical firm. Gonzo doesn’t trust women, Constance has no use for men — and yet they’re going to find themselves working toward the same goals.

Can they form a team to do what needs to be done?

Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club Book Seven, can be read as a stand-alone.

As this was the first book I've read by Candace Blevins, I must say I'm incredibly impressed! Her writing is extremely well put together and detailed! The storyline was absolutely captivating and the characters were incredibly complex with palpable emotions. I was absolutely drawn in when I started this book and just could not put it down the entire read! Even though this book was the 7th in a series, it was very easy to jump right in and pick up on the storyline and characters. The emotions of the characters were enticingly complex and I could actually feel the turmoil and heartaches of both Gonzo and Constance! Also, the romance was spicy and delicious, keeping me eagerly devouring the pages! I absolutely enjoyed this incredible book and will definitely be getting some more of Mrs. Blevins' books to check out!

​ Candace Blevins lives with her husband of 18 years and their two daughters. When not working or driving kids all over the place she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming. Candace writes Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Contemporary BDSM Romance, and is currently writing a kick-ass Motorcycle Club series. Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, as well as a variety of other mythological beings exist. Candace's two paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals and The Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, are both sister series to the Only Human series, and give some secondary characters their happily ever after. Her Safeword Series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each book in the Safeword series highlights a couple with a different BDSM issue to resolve. You can visit Candace on the web at candaceblevins.com and feel free to friend her on Facebook at facebook.com/candacesblevins and Goodreads at goodreads.com/CandaceBlevins. You can also join facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters to get sneak peeks into what she's writing now, images that inspire her, and the occasional juicy blurb.

Stay up to date on Candace’s newest releases, and get exclusive excerpts by joining hermailing list!

When your life is messed up to begin with, how much worse can it really get?

Heather Ryan's life has never been simple. The latest in a long line of descendants who have made it their mission to hunt down and slay the Ancient Vampire, Marko Pavel, she is also the first born Infected. Up until recently, the biggest downside to living with the Vampyrric Virus was simply that she craved blood, but after receiving a DVD from her deceased Grandmother Sofia and being kidnapped with friend and so called guardian Werewolf, Brendan Daniels, she quickly discovers that she is also the inspiration behind the Vampiresâ attempt to create a whole new breed of super monstersâHybrids.

The truth comes at a cost, but how much does one have to sacrifice to gain success?

Following the breadcrumbs left by her psychic Grandmother, Heather and Brendan find themselves in new territory. Venice is where Heather hopes to find Marie, the second Bloodling of Marko, along with Brendan's three taken Pack members. But an old Peace Pact between the Italian Pack and the Colony means they are left hunting blind, and due to the Italian Alpha's reluctance to believe their story of kidnap and experimentation on Loup-Garous, time is running out. So when help comes from an unlikely source, they have no choice but to accept.

All families have secrets, but blood can't lie.

Caught up in an intricate and complicated scheme spun by the one she trusts the most and the friend of her enemy, Heather soon discovers that she is the pawn in a plan she would never have been able to conceive. But how many of her new allies were in on the game, to begin with?

****CONTENT WARNING****

This title contains explicit language, violence, and some scenes of a sexual nature.

Elizabeth Morgan is a multi-published author of urban fantasy, paranormal, erotic horror, f/f, and contemporary; all with a degree of romance, a dose of action and a hit of sarcasm, sizzle or blood, but you can be sure that no matter what the genre, Elizabeth always manages to give a unique and often humorous spin to her stories.

Like her tagline says; A pick ânâ mix genre author. âIâm not greedy. I just like variety.â

She also has her hand in self-publishing. Look out for more information on her upcoming releases at her website: www.e-morgan.com

Away from the computer, Elizabeth can be found in the garden trying hard not to kill her plants, dancing around her little cottage with the radio on while she cleans, watching movies or good television programmes â Dr Who? Atlantis? The Musketeers? Heck, yes! â Or curled up with her two cats reading a book.

For more information on Elizabeth's work, published and upcoming, head on over to her site:

​Olivia Donnelly never meant to fall in love with a hot, sexy vampire. But she did and, against all reason, now she’s been turned herself and is fast learning there’s more to William Macauley’s world than meets the eye. As Olivia struggles to adapt to her new life, an old madness – long dormant in their bloodline – re-emerges, bringing with it an unexplained power that courses through her veins unchecked. Faced with danger from old enemies, William and Olivia are forced to battle not only her internal demons, but other vampires that threaten their very lives. Can their immortal love conquer all, or will it lead to their destruction?

​ They drove past several men loitering in doorways or smoking outside of a pub, but nothing in their demeanor gave him pause. He didn’t approve of these types of men, but he wouldn’t condemn them either for the lives they had been born into but had failed to leave behind.He maneuvered the car off the main street to roam darker, more secluded alleyways in search of the perfect opportunity. After driving in silence for several minutes, he turned them toward the deserted docklands area. Crawling stealthily up and down the relatively peaceful streets for a good hour, William considered moving their hunt elsewhere when he heard a faint scream off in the distance, one that wouldn’t have been discernible to the human ear.The adrenaline rushed through Olivia’s alert body as William pulled the car over and stopped the engine.“You heard that, yes?”She swallowed, her venom flowing in anticipation of what her body knew was to come. “Yes.”“I can’t tell how many. Three, maybe four. I wanted your first hunt to have as few distractions as possible. Fewer men would certainly be easier, but it won’t be difficult by any means. I could easily take on more, and wouldn’t be surprised to see you able to as well. That said, I leave the decision entirely up to you.”While Olivia searched her mind for answer to his unspoken question – could she handle it? –they heard the scream again. Somewhere, maybe a thousand yards away, a group of thugs joyful in their violence. Olivia pictured the scene, focused her senses on the more muted sounds, listened for anything that would give her a reason to act – or not. There was definitely the sound of fists hitting exposed flesh. Cries of pain. Then laughter.An older man was being beaten, she was sure, but she didn’t know anything about him. Maybe he deserved his violent punishment, but then again, maybe he didn’t. If he was blameless – innocent – she couldn’t let the assault continue unabated. In a split second, she decided the man needed her to intercede on his behalf, and then something deep inside of her quieted, the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach going silent.William watched Olivia zero in on the sounds ahead. She closed her eyes, took two deep breaths, and went completely still. Moments later she cocked her head to the right and twitched her eyebrows ever so slightly, a scowl crossing her face. He could see she had picked up on both the verbal confrontation as well as the inner monologues of the ruffians, was searching their private thoughts for vindication for what he already knew was to come. Three, maybe four seconds later she heard what she was looking for. Olivia opened her eyes, exited the car soundlessly, and silently prowled the street, all lithe feline grace.Olivia hadn’t spoken a word to William before taking her leave. She was sure he knew her intentions and that he’d be by her side in seconds should she require him. She was gratified to see her intuition hadn’t been wrong. This was her hunt and he wouldn’t interfere unless she needed him to, but he wouldn’t let her experience it for the first time alone. Nearing the group of men, William receded into the shadows, on watch, his senses alert should Olivia need his assistance.As she moved closer to the group she could hear the old man begging for his life, his cries becoming weaker and feebler with each menacing kick that was landed to his body. The situation was as she feared – it was a senseless act of violence, the old man having done nothing to deserve the pain he was being forced to endure. The realization made her angry and a deathly calm descended. This was the justification she needed to spill their blood.She approached the group soundlessly. “Hello, gentleman.”The scumbag closest to her jumped in surprise at the interruption. Had he spared her more than a momentary glance he would have seen more than a harmless red-haired woman standing behind him. Instead, he barely looked her way before turning his back on her to cheer his friends on in their mistreatment of the man who now lay prone on the cold asphalt, his body unmoving.“Please stop kicking that poor man,” she requested in vain, knowing that even as she spoke her words fell on deaf ears. There would be no stopping their assault now that they had experienced their own version of blood lust.“Whaya looking at brasser?” hollered another, stopping his attack long enough to look her body up and down lecherously.I’ll give the feckin cunt a ride. Olivia heard the words pass through his mind as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud. He would never get close enough to try. She’d given them their one chance to comply with her directive. Hell, she had even been polite! Now she could drain them dry and not feel a second of remorse.When she didn’t respond, he screamed louder, “Feck off ye geebag!” as he kicked the dying man again, harder, while staring straight at her. It was then that Olivia realized she had arrived too late to save their victim as he was no longer moving or reacting to the assault being wrought on his body. She listened for his heartbeat but knew it had already died. The assholes assaulting him hadn’t even noticed. That made her even angrier.So be it.Olivia closed her eyes, took a deep breath to settle her mind, let her power unfurl, and then she struck.William had never seen anything like it. Olivia appeared for all the world a lethal killing machine and yet she was also full of grace and beauty, her body moving in perfect harmony with her mind as she glided from one action to the next. When she stopped moving, the man closest to her lay where he had stood, his neck broken, spinal cord severed, the bloody stump attached to his body by a single ligament. His cohort’s form was strewn next to him, heart ripped out of his chest, blood splattered over the front of his white polyester tracksuit.Meanwhile, the third thug – the one who had dealt the blow that had killed the old man – pulled out a large knife to defend himself against her deadly onslaught, but she was too quick, too determined to see the act through to the end. Unlike his friends, he had seen her coming, had witnessed her monstrosity unleashed, and as he stared at her bared fangs, Olivia’s eyes came alive with excitement over his paltry effort to defend himself. In less than a second she had him in her arms, neck stretched taut to the point of breaking. He had been unable to even attempt to use the blade against her. The man whined and begged Olivia to spare his life as he blathered on about his mum and sister and a whole host of nonsense she hadn’t cared to hear.William watched her close her eyes against the noise and he knew it was her attempt to block out the sound of his obsequious sniveling. Briefly, he remembered back to a time when he’d had to consciously do the same.“You left me no choice,” she said, bracing herself for a wave of shame and disgust that never came. She captured the man’s gaze to ensure that in those few seconds before death he knew exactly who – what – had delivered retribution for his many crimes. By then he had ceased his whimpering and his eyes had gone vacant in fear.She smiled cynically down at him and he pissed himself in response. “Oh god,” he whined as Olivia plunged her fangs into his neck, brutally ripping into the sweat soaked skin surrounding the arterial vein. The blood rushed into her mouth, a sloppy stream of hot, warm liquid that coated her throat as it worked its way into her body. She closed her mind to the force of his thoughts, twenty years of memories, as she drank him in. While she needed his blood flowing inside of her she did not need the knowledge of his life. She knew everything she needed to: he was a murderer and she was there to put an end to him. When his heart stopped beating and his blood ceased to flow, she threw his body to the side of the road like the garbage he had been.Olivia’s eyes dispassionately moved over the men she had killed. She had left the castle tonight resolved to feed – yes, to kill even – but she hadn’t intended to leave a slew of maimed and mutilated bodies in her wake. Clearly the power thrumming inside her veins had had other ideas.Olivia couldn’t recall specifically what had been going through her head while she had been bloodily plowing her way through the men. Her mind had made its decision and then her body had followed suit, reacting almost of its own accord to the blatant disregard the men had shown both their victim and her presence.She remembered asking them to stop hurting him but they had refused. That hadn’t been surprising. In fact, it had been expected. What had surprised her, however, was hearing the man in the red hoodie consider forcing himself on her once they finished roughing up the old man. They had had some beef with him but she was just a random woman who’d crossed their path. That his thoughts would immediately go to rape said enough about him and the company he kept to let her know they couldn’t continue living. It was then that the monster that dwelled within her had taken over and she unleased her rage on them.Olivia heard a subtle shift behind her and instinctively turned to attack. A human eye would never have been able to see her body make its move, but the man who stood before her was no human.William.Olivia’s body was primed for a fight, her mind filled with the thrill of the kill, but at seeing her maker – the man who was her eternal lover – standing immobile before her she dropped her hands to her side and relaxed her posture. Despite the overwhelming energy coursing through her and the fight or flight response that firmly held her in its thrall, somewhere in the back of her mind Olivia knew he would not hurt her, that William was not her foe.Never.Likewise, she knew she could not hurt him.William reached his hand out for Olivia to take. He was in awe of the speed with which she had moved and her deadly poise, but he didn’t want to risk her turning that lethal grace on him. He could see from the unholy light that filled her eyes she remained in the grips of something quite beyond a blood fever. He knew the symptoms well as he had often enough been a slave to it himself, but what he saw now went far beyond anything he had ever experienced.“Olivia.”She stared at him for several long seconds, her body deathly still, and then the pulsing brilliance of her eyes began to fade to their normal emerald green. She blinked once and tilted her head, a slight shift to the right, and he saw from the recognition that crossed her face she had regained control of her faculties. Olivia turned in a wide circle, her hands hanging limp at her sides, as she took in her surroundings.“Oh my god, I’m a monster.” The admission was spoken on a stifled sob. “Yes, you are,” William agreed, a sad smile shaping his lips. “We both are.”

See My Review of A Time Apart (Book 1) Here!

​Rebecca read her first novel when she was just four years old and has been hooked on books ever since. When she wasn't writing her own stories, she was sneaking copies of her mom's paperbacks to read late into the night. Fast forward a few years later, she graduated from the University of Pittsburgh with a degree in Journalism. After a stint working in radio, she embarked on a career in technology public relations in Silicon Valley, representing some of the country's hottest start-ups and publicly traded companies. After more than a decade in the business, she began writing full time, and has now published both contemporary and paranormal romance novels. When not creating fictional worlds inhabited by strong women and dashing heroes, she is reading about them, planning her next vacation, trying out new recipes, or drinking a dram of whiskey. Rebecca lives with her husband in Dublin, Ireland.

​Getting on the cheerleading squad is hard enough without a psycho on the loose...For Harrow High freshman Dakota Densford, life should be easy. All she has to worry about is talking to cute boys and remembering her locker combination. But when cheerleading tryouts draw near, she learns the cards are stacked against her—spots on the varsity team are limited. Dakota faces her competition head-on, but when her life is threatened, that takes the competition to a whole new level.High school is never easy, and freshman year is off to a rough start…Between Dakota’s uniform being ripped up and masked vandals trashing another girl’s house, everyone is suspect. To complicate matters further, Dakota has a thing for Andy McGraw, but she finds him locking lips with another girl.The harassment continues, and when Dakota finds suspicious flyers inside her best friend’s locker, she doesn’t know what to think. The principal’s unfeeling, overachiever daughter, Brittani Barlow, will do anything to secure her place on the team. But Dakota’s neighbor, on the other hand, definitely fits the profile of a sociopath.Cheerleading has become a game of life or death.

​PrologueThe SociopathDo you want to know what death smells like? What it really smells like?Take a pound of raw meat—I recommend ground chuck. Stick it in a vacuum-sealed container. Place the container in the fridge and leave it there. A few months later, take it out.Remove the lid.Nothing can prepare you for the brick wall that smacks your face, filling every orifice of your body simultaneously.That smell…not only will it blow you away, but smells like that, they stick with you.Lifeless meat in a tight, confined space produces a smell sharp enough to burn the lashes off your eyelids.So, for the rest of the day you’ll be moving along…and then some small thing reminds you— little Tommy’s Happy Meal or a dump truck rolling by on garbage day—and your nose twitches, remembers, and the hairs inside your nostrils stiffen. Your throat tickles in the back, bile rising, and your belly rolls uncomfortably. You try to push the thought aside, to forget that smell, but…you can’t.Like I said, smells stick with you. Even months—maybe years—later, you’ll be walking along, minding your own business, when something—anything, really—reminds you of that smell.I know what death smells like…The house is empty, silent. The quiet consumes me, a welcoming blanket…a sign that it’s finally time.The mini-fridge was my grandma’s idea. A teenager now, she thought I deserved my own little space for drinks and snacks.I squatted down in front of it, listening to its hum. My heart pumped, excitement building.Today was the day.It’d been nearly six months now since I started my little “experiment.” I’d kept a journal, taking notes on my observations regarding the specimen. A disciplined endeavor.I’d done a lot of monitoring, but today was the day to really observe, up close and personal.I opened the fridge, enjoying the sticky “smooch” sound of the rubber seals on each side separating. A couple cans of soda sat on the top shelf. Generic cola, probably expired. On the bottom was my Tupperware container, its red cap securely fastened in place. Keeping all the smells inside…Carefully, I slid the container off the shelf, carrying it to the center of my bedroom floor, tiptoeing like a gymnast on a balance beam. I plopped on my belly, burning my bare knees across the carpet. I pressed my face to the plastic, looking inside like it was a tiny window. I made a funny face, pressing my lips to the side and blowing, exposing my teeth.Two eyes, wide and frozenly frightened, stared back at me through the plastic container. The eyeballs mushy now, there were tiny bits and pieces of egg-white eyeball chunks floating in the fluids surrounding its face. The once shiny black coat faded now to a murky brown color.Excitedly, I lifted the lid. Taking in the smells of death. “Meow.” I grinned at my stinky friend.It was a smell I’d never forget…hopefully.

​Besides my family, my greatest love in life is books. Reading them, writing them, holding them, smelling them…well, you get the idea. I've always loved to read and never considered myself a "writer" until a few years ago when I couldn't find a book to read and decided to try writing my own story. With a background in psychology, I've always been a little obsessed with the darker areas of the mind and social problems so I try to channel all of that into my writing. I'm the author of the Flocksdale Files trilogy, the Horror High series, Grayson's Ridge, and This Is Not About Love. I reside in Floyds Knobs, Indiana with my husband, children, and massive collection of books.

The sun has become a 'red giant' and the world is hot and parched. In California, James and Lexie Deforio have three goals: to find food and water, to survive another day, and to protect their two children. When their home is abruptly robbed and burned to the ground, the family is forced to embark on a cross-country journey in search of safety and water.

Facing ruthless bandits, murderers, and some of the most extreme conditions they have ever encountered, they struggle to survive. When James is shot trying to help another family, Lexie and her children set out on a harrowing journey to save him. Finding temporary safety in the abandoned Ohio salt mines deep under Lake Erie, they appear to have found a new home. But, like everything on their journey, not all is as it seems.

Parched - a dystopian thriller by Andrew Branham V4

The sun no longer shone canary yellow. It hadn’t done so for years. Instead, it glared down, obstinate, punishing—beet red, like the garden tomatoes that no longer existed. It stood guard over the desert-dry water taps that had likewise fallen prey to the relentless heat, even in mid-October. Livermore, California had been a town set on rolling hills, swathed in green grass and fragrant orange poppies. Now, each day played out like the one before it: sun, heat, illness, death.

On that particular day, relative calm engulfed them. Only a few trails of smoke rose up in the distance toward the west and the Oakland Hills. Usually it was worse—the smoke was more like the dense cloud of marine fog that used to roll in daily. Now, the arid air, once fresh with coastal mist and the scent of eucalyptus trees mixed with wild lavender and rosemary, smelled like burning hay. The sun’s transition from an earthly asset to man’s most vicious foe had been going on for decades, but you would never have known it. It had caught humanity ill-prepared. Those who once had awaited its daily arrival now despised its very existence.

Scientists had a word for it; scientists had a word for everything. They called it a Red Giant, a star that had exhausted the supply of hydrogen at its core and had switched to thermonuclear fusion. As a result, the Earth found itself baking, its waters evaporating, and humanity’s extinction imminent. No scientist or politician could explain why the sun had made such a drastic transformation; nor did it matter.

In the distance, the sound of a laboring sixteen-wheeler lumbering up the road startled James as he popped up from his sleep. Scanning the room, he breathed out his relief. Everybody’s okay, he thought, checking out their California king bed. For a brief moment, he recalled his dream, in which he had been frolicking with his brother along the beaches of Lake Erie, near where they had grown up. But, instead of laughing, shouting, and swimming in cool waters, he was perspiring. Sweat soaked the bed and stained his shirt and underwear. His mouth felt and dry.

What’s the truck doing here at this hour?

The clanking of the massive tires hitting the potholes brought him back to reality. Rising cautiously, he kicked into the nightstand and let out a yelp, awakening their infant, who began to cry.

“What is it?” his wife asked.

“Nothing. Just the water truck. Go back to sleep.”

His thirteen-year-old son, Silas, was now awake as well and was scanning the room with his eyes. His long blond hair was matted down against his boyish face and, despite his sleep, he still looked extremely fatigued. He was irritated not only at the unrelenting heat and his sister’s cries, but also that he woke up in the same depressing room where they almost always stayed. Sometimes he hoped his life was just a nightmare that he would someday wake up from. Looking around, he saw walls stacked with cardboard boxes, dirty clothing on the floor, and dirt-stained sheets on the bed in which he was lying. The two windows in the room were covered in a thick film of dust and sand. A loaded rifle and handgun were on a box next to the bed.

Already dressed, James grabbed his shotgun and several plastic gallon water jugs, which he had strung together with nautical rope, and sprinted down the steps, the jugs thumping with each step. He pushed aside the heavy desk and chair he had used to barricade the door and scrunched down to peek out through a two-inch crack he had opened. He saw the truck that had stopped in the middle of the road. As he struggled to focus, he smelled the burning air and saw the heat waves reflecting off the cracked and buckled asphalt. He made out several residents emerging from their deteriorating town-homes, guns and jugs in hand, walking toward the truck with its distinctive Red Cross logo. The sound of his baby crying and the rustling of his waking family echoed through the empty stairwell.

Andrew Branham is an award winning writer and business executive who lives in Jackson, MI. Over the years, he has received several awards for his editorial columns and op-eds. His memoir, Anything for Amelia, has won multiple honors/awards.

He was born in the culturally rich and diverse town of Lorain,

Ohio. He is married and they have one daughter. Andrew is an avid writer and has contributed articles and op-eds for multiple major newspapers throughout the country. He also writes business articles for many different publications and websites.

Anything for Amelia is his first book and he was inspired to write it due to his extremely difficult adoption that many experts claimed was 'the most difficult adoption in U.S. history'. Andrew found that writing in a journal each day during the adoption helped him to relieve the extreme levels of stress that he was facing. The journal proved to be the key to him writing the memoir. Andrew hopes that his book will help other adoptive families to avoid some of the mistakes that he made. In addition, he is donating a portion of any profits to the foster care system.

He has recently finished his first fiction novel, Parched (available 4/14/16). It is a post-apocalyptic/dystopian novel that is set in a time when the world has nearly run out of water. It follows a family as they attempt to cross the United States in search of food, water and shelter. He was inspired to write this novel while living through the extreme droughts of Northern California.

“..the relentless pacing of this story, which rarely pauses from the action or relishes in the monotony of life after civilization’s breakdown, keeps the reader engaged throughout. By placing an entire family at the center of his novel, the author makes every challenge feel that much more dangerous. The book concludes with a brief excerpt from a forthcoming sequel, so hopefully readers can expect more adventures in Branham’s fearsome wasteland. A fast-paced post-apocalyptic tale of survival and family.”

~Kirkus Reviews

****

“There is a constant urgency and energy in the writing that makes it difficult to put down. The most powerful parts of this story are when the lines of morality begin to blur in the family’s quest for survival. This resilient family always seems to be running away from something, narrowly escaping danger, and eking by to survive – it was exhausting just reading about their life on the run! At its core, Parched is about hope and survival against all odds, and the personal demons we must face when our bodies and minds are pushed to the limit. However, the underlying message is that the bonds of family, morality, and humanity can be bent, but never broken.”

~Self-Publishing Review.

****

“The story is taut and inventive and Branham makes some bold narrative choices, the stakes are high and no one is safe. With shifts in perspective each character is made sympathetic and three dimensional. PARCHED sets the stage for a suspenseful saga with well-crafted characters and numerous conflicts yet to be resolved.” ~Indie Reader

****

“Parched holds several surprises; not the least of which is its ultimate direction. Readers used to the typical linear progression of many apocalyptic reads will find something unique and special in Parched: highly recommended for any who want a powerful thriller with a strong environmental message.”

Miles Bradshaw, the dot-com billionaire owner of Pittsburghâs first NBA franchise, hires private detective Jeremy Barnes to look into what appears to be a simple case of harassment of one of the teamâs players. But when Jeremy (JB to his friends) begins his investigation, the case proves to be anything but simple, eventually involving a local businessman with suspected criminal ties, a major FBI task force, a computer geek in California and a mob boss in Erie. Along the way, JB, who can quote Shakespeare as quickly and easily as he can land a solid left jab, uses his wits and his ever-present sense of humor to wend his way through a cast of characters who range from the ridiculously inept to the ruthlessly lethal.

As Hard Court unfolds, there are numerous surprises and plot twists, culminating in a dramatic confrontation that neither JB nor the reader could have predicted.

Both my parents were readers. I'm talking stacks-of-books-on-their-nightstands readers. So it's no surprise that at an early age, I, too, became an avid reader. Everything from sports books (especially baseball) to Nancy Drew to the Hardy Boys to almost anything about distant and exotic places.

Although I've always enjoyed putting words on paper, the writer in me didn't fully emerge until I retired after three decades of teaching high school English. I quickly wrote two books aimed at middle school readers, at which point my wife urged me to try a novel for adults. As is usually the case, Cynthia's idea was a good one.

Over the next few years, I wrote several books about Pittsburgh private eye Jeremy Barnes. I took a brief hiatus from the detective genre to writeSmall TalkandThe Backup Husband. Now Iâm back and I just released my first Jeremy Barnes novel, Hard Court, on April 11.

In our spare time, Cynthia and I enjoy reading (of course), going to live theater productions, watching reruns of favorite TV shows such as "Sports Night" and "Gilmore Girls," and traveling to some of those distant and exotic places I used to read about as a child. So far, we've been fortunate enough to walk in the sands of Waikiki, swim in the warm waters of the South Pacific and share a romantic dinner in Paris.

I love interacting with my readers and getting their input on my characters and stories. Please feel free to contact me via mywebsite and connect with me on Twitter and Facebook.

A year after the tragic death of his close friend and fellow assassin, Ethan Halstead is ready to take up his sniper rifle once more. But his first assignment is nothing he ever expected. Ethan must hunt and retrieve a beautiful, spirited, alluring werewolf.

Knowing no other way to escape an arranged marriage, Fraya flees from her pack. As she contemplates slipping across the border and heading to South America, she is captured by a dangerously seductive vampire who plans on escorting her back to her family. Even as Fraya vows to make Ethan’s mission as difficult as possible, she can’t resist the riotous desire he sparks within her.

But Ethan isn’t the only predator that peruses Fraya. A powerful rival pack’s alpha wants to make her his mate. Will Ethan be able to keep Fraya safe and return her to her pack? Or will he surrender to temptation and claim Fraya as his own? ​

​Chapter OneLightning splintered the sky. Thunder shook the earth beneath his feet. Damp heat thickened the air. Any moment, the winds would kick up and the red hued clouds would release a torrent of rain.

Ethan loved summer storms and treasured Arizona for its monsoon season. It was only during the madness of the storm that he found peace. In those rare, precious moments, the world reflected the chaos that roiled inside him and he felt… as if he belonged.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and savored the soothing scent of the desert. To his disappointment, he would not be able to appreciate the beauty of nature’s fury. Clearing his mind, Ethan unleashed his senses. His mark was close. He could feel her. Crossing the street, he headed for the quaint coffee shop he frequently sped past. She was here, which meant he could call an end to this pointless job.

Ethan was an assassin, not a damn babysitter. He was an expert tracker and sniper, yet the Under Realm Syndicate had him chasing after a spoiled little she-wolf. He had been tasked with fetching the runaway and returning her to her pack – a complete waste of his time and talents. He couldn’t believe he had let Cole talk him into this. The fact was this case should’ve never made the list. Why the Syndicate decided to get involved was beyond his understanding. This wasn’t a kidnapping or a hostage situation. The female wasn’t a criminal. She wasn’t a threat to the human world or Under Realm society.

His annoyed growl blended with the booming thunder. Cole had insisted Ethan accept this assignment, “You should be grateful the Syndicate is willing to give you a second chance. You’ve been out of practice.”

Who could argue with that logic? Ethan had been off the map for a year. Most within the Syndicate believed he had been killed on his last mission.

I should have been.Shaking his head, he dispelled the thought. He refused to take sober trips down memory lane. He needed to focus on his task.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee was overwhelming. Ethan reigned in his supernatural senses as he stepped inside the shop. The door closed and the torrential rain began to fall. He did a quick, nonchalant sweep of the café, careful not to meet anyone’s gaze. Eye contact encouraged conversation, and he was here on business not pleasure. He would grab the werewolf, take her back home, and detain her until he could make arrangements with her father. Simple.

Ethan walked to the counter. After the blonde and brunette baristas finished arguing over who would help him, he ordered and received a black coffee. The cup had both girl’s names and numbers written on it. He thanked them with a smile. They batted their lashes and insisted he stop by a college party later that night.Ethan’s shoulders shook with a light laugh.Naïve mortals.

Turning, he headed up the winding iron staircase that led to the second floor loft area. The walls were made almost entirely of glass, providing a glorious view of the storm. Students sat at the tables working on their laptops while groups lounged on the sofas discussing the world of social media.

The delicate scent of wildflowers drifted through the air, drawing his sharp gaze to the far corner. There was nothing remarkable about her presence. She appeared to fit in perfectly with the scene, as if she were just another co-ed. She wore a pair of skinny jeans and a crimson sweatshirt. She sat with her feet tucked under her crisscrossed. Leaning over the table, her long dark brown hair tumbled forward, blocking his view of her face. Ethan noted the worn, tattered condition of the book she read. Her frame was small. She seemed fragile, but he knew better. She was strong, fast, and intelligent. His mark appeared to be ‘normal’ by human standards, but she was the wolf he was looking for.

Hoping everything would go smoothly, he advanced. This was a delicate situation. The female could freak out on him. She could cause a scene, and he loathed drama just as much as he loathed this particular job. It was not a search and rescue mission. No, it was a track-down-a-spoiled-brat-and-take-her-home mission. A simpleton could do it. Why it had to be done was beyond him. At twenty-four, she was an adult. She had a degree in biology and was a werewolf; she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

Who cares? Grab the girl and go.

Ethan quickly reminded himself of the two basic rules: never become personally involved with your mark and strike first, ask questions later – if you cared about asking question at all.

As he approached the woman, he felt a slight tremor in the air. A warning? A threat? Someone was watching them. He set his senses loose once more, scanning the café for the source of the violent energy, but it had vanished just as quickly as it had arrived.

The girl must have felt the glimmer of danger. Her gaze snapped up and met his. Her warm, honey colored eyes were round with surprise. Her tempting red lips parted with a silent gasp. Ethan froze. She was… more than beautiful.

She blinked up at him. Her gaze innocently seductive, her mouth violently tempting, and her wild flower scent was overwhelming. His body reacted instantly. It had been years since he’d felt such a strong, instant attraction.

He watched her lick her lips; lust shot through him like a lightning strike. Oh, yes. The wolf was alluring and, to his surprise, he was disappointed that she was his mark.
“Hi,” she said with a nervous lilt to her voice.Ethan mentally shook himself and crossed over to stand at the chair opposite her. “Hi,” he replied.

Thunder rumbled; the force shook the glass walls. The girl flinched and her gaze fell from his. For a soundless moment, she sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her head tilted down. The mortals gasped and laughed as another boom shook the windows.
“You may sit,” she said, her voice low, barely audible.

Ethan could smell the fear that sparked within her. Was she frightened of the storm, or what possibly lurked outside? An overwhelming sense of protectiveness settled over him and he frowned. He didn’t like it. He wasn’t the protective type. He was a killer not a savior.Focus and get this over with.
“Not a fan of thunderstorms?” he asked as he claimed the chair.

She straightened and fixed her gaze on him once more. Her expression was bland, her cute stubborn chin titled up, her shoulders back. She looked regal and refined. Every bit the aristocrat she was.
“I’m accustomed to snow storms.”
“Really? Where are you from?”
“Minnesota,” she answered with a hint of hesitation.He smiled and was shocked he didn’t have to fake it. “You’re a long way from home.”She shrugged and returned her attention to her book.
Ethan took a sip of the surprisingly good coffee and relaxed in his seat. He picked up a golf magazine, which rested on the table beside them, and began flipping through the pages. He wasn’t at all interested in golf. Being a vampire, he preferred keeping out of the sun. Although, contrary to popular lore, he wouldn’t burst into flame or turn to ash. He could work on his tan, he just preferred not to.

He casually glanced over at the werewolf and inwardly groaned. She was reading a list of the top ten hot spots in Chile. It appeared she was interested in sunbathing and he couldn’t stop the image of her in a bikini from cropping up in his mind even if he’d wanted to. And he certainly didnotwant to erase the image.

She sighed, closed the book, and tucked it away in her backpack, which hung off the back of her chair. She took up her latte and settled her gaze on him. Her lips turned up with a sweet smile.
“You don’t strike me as the golfing type.”He raised a brow and tossed the magazine down on the table between them. “No?”

She shook her head, her long dark curls waving around her shoulders. “Not at all. You look like you’d rather go to a shooting range than work on your golf swing.”Ethan couldn’t argue with that. He’d had his basement converted into an indoor gun range.
“Very observant,” he said. “What about you? What’s your hobby?”

She bit her bottom lip as she contemplated. Ethan wanted to bite it for her. “Traveling. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. You know, see the world, and experience different cultures.”
“Is that what your trip to Arizona is all about?” he asked.
“More or less,” she answered with a shrug.
“Well, South America is beautiful.”Her eyes grew wide. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the table. Excitement laced her voice, “You’ve been?”

Ethan shifted closer and reached for her hand. The air trembled with another flicker of danger just before the lights went out. Darkness flooded the café.

His mark shoved away from the table, snatched her backpack, and darted toward the stairs. Ethan was right behind her. The mortals grumbled complaints, some laughed, while others stumbled through the dark.

She was about to reach the exit when the door flew open, crashing against the wall. Humans screamed and shouted in alarm. The girl froze, and Ethan cursed. Clearly, he hadn’t been the only one searching for her. He could sense the alpha’s presence and, judging by his target’s reaction, so could she.

Ethan grabbed her wrist. She swung around. Her fist raised, her honey colored eyes glowed, and her fangs bared. Shadows of a wolf’s fierce visage flickered over the fine features of her face. Her fierce growl vibrated her entire body. Ethan ignored the warning and tugged on her arm, pulling her toward the emergency exit at the back of the coffee shop.He pushed the door open. His mark tried to twist free of his hold, but he held her firm.
“Let go of me,” she demanded, her voice roughened by her partial transformation.
“Not a chance, sweetheart.”She growled and fought harder. He wasn’t surprised by her strength and knew she was still holding back. So was he.Pushing her now soaked and tangled hair from her face, she snarled, “What’s going on?”
“I thought it was obvious,” he said.
“That you’re attempting to kidnap me?”Ethan shook his head. “No. That you have an alpha hunting your ass.”
Her stare was one of confusion, awe, and horror. She stopped, and he paused. Literally dragging her across the street would draw unwanted attention. He reluctantly released her wrist. She was soft and warm while he was hard and cold. A frown creased his brow when the sharp sense of loss pricked his long dead heart.On some level, he’d enjoyed the feel of her.She blinked up at him. Her large, honey eyes sparkled with fear. “W-what did you say?”His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “I’ll explain. For now, come with me.”She shook her head.Ethan glanced over his shoulder, scanning the parking lot for any sign of the alpha. He could sense the wolf was close.
“We don’t have much time. We need to go.”The woman fell back a step and Ethan’s body tensed. His instincts flared. She retreated another step. Would she run? A part of him wished she would. He loved the chase. The hunt. His heart began to pound, his pupils dilated, and his fangs began to sharpen, all in anticipation.
“Don’t,” he warned.
​LINK TO FIRST 3 Chaptershttp://amandajgreene.blogspot.com/2015/04/extended-excerpt-surrender-to-chase.html

​Amanda J. Greene is a paranormal romance author. When she is not writing, she can be found playing the role of a university student who also works full time. She lives in Southern California with her very supportive husband and their two dogs. Doing all the above and being a military wife is not easy, but rewarding! Of course, she accomplishes everything with a strong cup of coffee in her hand.
Amanda is also an associate reviewer on The Book Nympho.

About Me

I'm a Texas gal with a wonderful husband, an amazing six year old son, and an adorable newborn baby boy!​My blog is about the best things in life - cooking, books, giveaways and reviews of everyday products! ​This is a PR-friendly blog!!